Confessions of a Gray Fox
by Rustito
Summary: Eyes to Skies is the champion of Cyrodiil.  He is a hero to all who walk in Tamriel.  He is one of the greatest warriors it has ever seen... and also one of its most cunning thieves. Enter the double life of the spectre known as the Gray Fox.


DISCLAIMER – All official Elder Scrolls names, titles, etc. are property their respective owners (Bethesda). Alterations to the Elder Scrolls universe are not to be considered canon.

**-----------------------------  
****Confessions of a Gray Fox  
****By Rusty Dillingham  
****-----------------------------**

**--- Chapter One – Origins ---**

My name is Eyes-to-Skies.

There likely isn't a soul in Cyrodiil who doesn't know my name anymore. In my life, I have lived in her borders, journeyed to her far ends, and helped to make her a better place to live, but above all, protected her with my life from the fires of war. I have battled the enemies of this empire for the sake of mankind. I have seen my dearest friends fall. Those that would do this nation harm have answered to me, and for my efforts, I have been bestowed upon by the will of the divinities titles that I am unsure I am worthy of holding – I am the champion of Cyrodiil.

But more importantly, I am the Gray Fox.

My second life is an exercise in contrast with my first. There are entire groups sanctioned by the empire dedicated to finding out who I am. There's a wanted poster of me on every street corner and on every bar's wall in the Imperial City. People have driven themselves mad looking for me. Yet they've all failed in trying to locate me – none of them know of my real identity, and they are all the more frustrated by it. Obviously I'm doing something right.

Above everything else, I consider myself a cat burglar – or lizard burglar, since I'm not exactly a furry sort. Ever since I was a youngling, even before my naming ceremony came about, I was a remarkably skilled individual in athleticism pertaining to my true profession. I climbed trees in my homeland. I snuck up behind my brethren for the sole purpose of almost making them jump out of their skin. Just to be a pain, I'd remove items from neighbors' homes to see if they'd notice until I'd put whatever I'd made off with back where I'd found it days later, regardless of the consequences. I was rarely caught in the act, and because I was relatively well-liked and was only having some fun, I suppose I got off easier than I probably should have.

I proved more troublesome at my naming ceremony. When I was supposed to be present to receive my name, I was actually lingering around inside the village priest's home, snooping for the sake of snooping, having entirely forgotten about an event, despite its importance. Eventually the ceremony was postponed, but not before the priest's mate climbed into the bed I was hiding in when she entered the room. I almost ended up being named something very undesirable as a result. It isn't my fault she came home while I was there, is it?

It's not that I was a bad youngling. I was very polite to my elders and had morals by which I firmly stood, but I also loved the thrill of doing something I wasn't supposed to. There was something very appealing about being one with the shadows, and having the kind of power that near-invisibility brings. Never once in my life did I resort to magic to hide myself, however. In no way is that proper conduct for someone who is as at one with nature as those of my race typically are.

My happy youth did not last indefinitely. Slavery began to slither its way into our lifestyles, so I soon left my homeland for adventure, something many of us do in our ignorance. I won't go into too many details, but suffice to say that while I was a skilled woodsman, I was dumb enough to think that an urban lifestyle was my calling at that age. I enjoyed the feel of a city, though I did not take part in its more provocative leisures, but I quickly understood the value of knowing what you're doing in that sort of environment. I went broke very quickly, and was reduced to just one spot above _pauper _on the food chain. Now, when a person is desperate for food, isn't getting any help from the government, and is far too pompous for his own good to reduce himself to begging, what happens?

In most cases, yes, they resort to petty theft. Most of them don't get away with it, either. I didn't steal much during my time of poverty – just enough to survive. I ended up in Balmora – don't even ask how – and made friends with a fence who would buy just about anything I tried to get rid of. Skooma, he especially liked; there was much of it in the inner circles of the Comonna Tong's Balmora branch. I never touched the stuff, since I saw first-hand what partaking in its guilty pleasures could do to a person, but my friend bought every ounce of it I could get him, and I often had a lot of it, because I was an acquaintance of those I took it from.

I know the Comonna Tong don't like outsiders. I knew it then, too, but I was desperate for money, so I did everything I could to get inside that trust circle of theirs. I did little jobs for them, mostly because I was available and they didn't feel like doing whatever needed doing themselves, and was regarded by them as a kind of stray animal that hangs around just to get some frequent meat. Eventually, I started receiving more important work from their higher-ups, mostly breaking and entering, and it was there that my talents skyrocketed into what they would become. But I was still reviled by them, and to be honest, the feeling was pretty mutual. I am not one who hate without reason, but when I have a reason, I'll put it to use.

I won't get into too many details as to what happened soon after I began making my way up the food chain. To make a long story short, the Comonna Tong got tired of my existence. I'm not one hundred percent sure why, since I treated them with as much respect as I felt was necessary, but it's probably simply because I'm not a Dunmer. They're a predictable lot. They gave me what sounded like an important job, and naturally, it ended up being a set-up. I was supposed to break in to a wealthy plantation owner and rip him off of whatever I could find. Turns out he was already dead when I got there, and the Imperial Legion showed up, probably thanks to a tip to lead them to me. The Balmora Tong was a weak, pathetic group and knew that trying to kill me would be futile, so instead they had the Legion take care of me. I was quickly taken into custody, convicted of murder by a Tamriel court, and thrown into prison to rot for the rest of my life.

Around here is where you can likely tell what happens. Although few people remember why I was behind bars, almost everyone in this day and age knows how I got away from them. Assassins attacked Emperor Septim, he and his entourage happened across me in their escape, and he commanded me to seek out his missing son. I remember being struck with an indescribable desire to do this. Emperor Septim, in the little time that I knew him personally, had a larger impact on my life than anyone else ever has, so I accepted his request and was pardoned from that miserable, stinking rat hole. My journey stretched to the edges of Cyrodiil, into her depths where few would dare venture, and ultimately found success at great prices. You know this tale, I'm certain.

What few are aware of, however, are the little excursions I engaged in on the side.

I had already considered joining the Morrowind branch of the Thieves Guild prior to my imprisonment. They were much more affable than those Comonna Tong degenerates, and I actually was an acquaintance of some of their members in Balmora, but nothing ever came of those friendships. But I felt very comfortable around them, moreso than I ever had around anyone else. I wanted in.

Freedom brought with it a chance to turn that prospect into a reality. Once I was out of prison, I quickly set out in search of their ranks. It took some investigative work in the grandness of the Imperial City to uncover the truths behind the presence of the Thieves Guild. Some denied their existence, but others seemed quite aware of it. I took the unbelievers in stride at first. They'd make my job easier once I was actually a member.

I needed to be extremely cautious in how I approached the Guild, however. It's much more difficult to find them in Cyrodiil than it is in Morrowind because the Imperial Legion – well, I don't know how to put it better than this: When it comes to the Thieves Guild, the Legion gets a stick up its tail hole. I'm sure it's because Cyrodiil is their homeland, and the Thieves Guild is impacting their own people rather than the native Dunmer of Morrowind. So they place much more emphasis on rooting them out and, if possible, eliminating them entirely.

I was very careful in my questioning of people over the Guild, because I did not want to give off the wrong impression of who I was. Word in the Thieves Guild goes around the grapevine _very _quickly. If you're trying to join, but you ask too many questions and bring too much attention to yourself, they're never going to let you in because not only are you most likely a spy working for the Legion (that's the sort of amateurish thing they pull when they're trying to lure the Guild out of its hiding place), but every soul in Cyrodiil will be aware of your interest in it. That's all it takes for a guild like that to crumble at its seams in the long run.

I frequented bars, possible hotspots for Guild members, but nothing ever came of that. Next I lurked around town at night, hoping to catch a glimpse of activity that would suggest Guild presence, but that also failed to lead me anywhere. Becoming annoyed, I became slightly disillusioned since I wasn't exactly flowing with money at the time, and voiced my irritations to a beggar after she engaged me in small chat when I gave her some of what little money I had.

"So you're interested in the Guild?" she asked once I'd finished grumbling.

I nodded yes, and she told me that perhaps she might have been of some help. She seemed to trust me, since I didn't look like any sort of high-society chump working undercover for the Legion, but I suspected she was taking a chance as well. It's easy for a rich man to make himself look like a pauper, but not the other way around. I'll have no true knowledge of the risk at hand until I discover later that the Guild had been aware of me ever since I'd gotten out of prison. It's not like anybody really makes use of "the back exit" very often, so they were curious as to what my story was. Turns out that made things a whole lot easier, but it's rather unnerving to think that a group is watching you like that, knowing your every move.

She directed me to a secluded garden in the poor section of the Waterfront district. Although the poor section is just that, it really isn't that bad. After living in a cramped cell for however many years I was there, it was a pleasant change of scenery. Everyone there is relatively courteous, especially if you're in the Guild, but I wasn't, so I was quickly met with suspicious stares by the residents. I would hope to change that at a nighttime meeting, however.

I was met at that quiet, secret meeting by Armand Cristophe, a high-ranking member of the Guild. I was elated to be as close as I was to joining it, but it turned out he had a little surprise for me – and the two other individuals who were there to meet him. A mission would decide which of us three would have the honor of joining the Guild's ranks. We were to locate the diary of one Amantius Allectus and get it back to Cristophe in one piece the following night. I saw no problem with this. I had faith in my talents, and I would demonstrate them on this operation, although Cristophe seemed to find my confidence amusing, despite his stern demeanor. He'd seen that sort of ignorant confidence countless times before.

I was being put up against Methredhel, a female Bosmer, and another Argonian named Amusei. Methredhel seemed nice enough, but her tone gave away how she really felt about her opposition. Amusei dispensed with any pleasantries and made it clear from the get-go that he had no intention of letting either of us emerge victorious in this little outing. In all honestly, now that I look back on it, I think we all pretty much hated each other right off the bat. The three of us are great friends now, but friendships often have less-than-amiable births. Cristophe probably found our loathing of one another entertaining.

We dispersed into the night, and by then it was more than apparent to me that the homeless citizens of the Imperial City were the eyes and ears of the Thieves Guild. I managed to get a location on Allectus' residence from one of them, and headed over there, hoping the other two hadn't already beaten me to the prize. I didn't doubt their abilities as fellow thieves. That kind of negative thinking would have made me lazy. I was a little rusty thanks to my time in prison, but I still held a lot of my talents – or at least I thought I did. My confidence was put to the test when I reached the door to Allectus' home.

By now it was about two o'clock in the morning, and I had procured some dark clothing just for this sort of occasion, as I knew I'd be getting back into the game quickly now that I was free (I'd have done it even without joining the Guild, to be honest). I also had bought some lockpicks from Cristophe, who was used to Guild members not having any means of doing their job, but I was very low on money, so I didn't have that many to work with. Sure enough, Allectus' door was locked, so I began trying to work it open with one of the few lockpicks in my possession.

I can't describe the level of anxiety that came over me when I started doing that. When you've been in prison for the last few years, and you've just gotten out, in most cases you're going to be on your best divine-loving behavior. If there's one thing that truly, _truly _strikes the epitome of fear into your soul after you've gotten out, it's the thought of going back behind those bars. I was terrified of that possibility, and at one point I had to stop fiddling with the lock to try and relax my nerves. The Legion didn't stop their patrols just because of some darkness. If they came across me, struggling amateurishly to break into this poor fellow's home, I was surely going back into the Clink for nobody knows how long. The thought of failing to find the Emperor's son had a very lasting effect on me as well, and that only made me even more nervous. But being in the Thieves Guild would be the best way for me to make money for the journey itself, so I had to succeed.

I was very careful not to break the pick, which meant that I would be at that door even longer than usual, but just when I thought I'd never be able to get the blamed door open, I unlocked it, breathing a heavy sigh of relief. Into the home I ventured as quietly as I could, my anxiety rising even more.

You're probably going to hear me talk about fear a lot as these memoirs go on. I was always scared when I was in the midst of the thieving process. I was confident in my abilities, but that didn't make the fear depart at all. Fear is part of what makes a person into a good thief, though. It gets the adrenaline going. It makes you quicker. It makes your mind work better. Just don't let the fear grow too much. I've seen it happen to my thieving brethren before. The consequences are not a thing to take lightly.

Now that I was inside, I moved about on Allectus' first floor, making certain I was truly alone and that his upstairs door was closed. I'd never exactly owned a diary, but I suspected he kept it close to where he slept. Even still, I figured I'd look about in the safest area, which was at that time the ground floor of his home.

I checked a desk, and it was empty, save for a few of Allectus' failed novels he'd given up on halfway through writing them. Not what I wanted by any stretch of the imagination. I snooped about a bit more on that first floor, but other than the desk, there was no particular place he could hide a diary. I could have checked the basement, but the odds of a diary being in there were minimal. My fears were confirmed – I'd have to look around in his bedroom while he was in there.

I didn't like the idea of having to do that. All it might take to get nabbed by the old fellow was a sudden urge for a nighttime snack. I could probably get out of there a lot quicker than he could catch me, but if he happened to get a good look at my face while I exited stage right, it wouldn't take long for me to get what I had coming. It was a terrifying way to get back into this game. With me going up into that bedroom, this would become the most dangerous heist I'd ever attempted, all for a miserable little diary.

Luckily, the second story door wasn't locked, which spared me a great deal of frustration and wrecked nerves, and soon I was there in the bedroom, this home's owner asleep in a bed not ten feet from me. I don't think I'd ever been that nervous before in my entire life, but I made it across the room without producing any noise. I wanted out of there fast, though, so I checked the only real place he could have kept it: his bedside desk.

It wasn't there.

I was utterly flabbergasted. There was nowhere else for him to keep such a thing in the room, and it couldn't have been in his basement. I wasn't about to go down there and see if I might have been wrong, but I was clueless as to what to do at that moment. I began to panic, but quickly calmed myself down after remembering the consequences of getting overzealous in such a position. That diary existed, and I was going to get it. Unless Allectus actually slept with the thing in his arms.

Although it was rather dark, the area beside Allectus' bedside desk was somewhat lit, so I checked to see if there was any dust build-up in the drawer that might have given me a clue. There was. He didn't seem to pay any mind to cleaning it out that often, and I also noticed a clear spot where dust hadn't built up over time. That meant he kept something in here that was absent – probably the diary. I weighed the possibilities of what might have happened to it, and came to the conclusion that it had already somehow been lifted before I'd gotten here. Either that, or he'd just misplaced it, though that wasn't likely.

I left the room and was back outside moments later. No one had seen me enter or exit the premises, and that was something I was very proud of, but the thought of failure in this endeavor made me uncomfortable. I sought out a nearby beggar and asked him if he'd seen anyone suspicious in the area. He told me that Methredhel had been around there that night, and that he'd noticed her again not long earlier, heading toward the Waterfront district.

A wave of disappointment flooded over me when he said that. What had happened became immediately apparent. As far as I knew, I'd failed to make the cut, but a few hours later, I was lingering around the city in depression when I thought to myself over the situation. Methredhel wouldn't be able to show off her prize until the following evening, so she'd have to keep the diary around somewhere. Odds were she was naïve enough to store it in her home. When I realized I knew where it was, I contemplated doing the unthinkable: Lifting it off her. I certainly had nothing to gain by _not _going for it, so I made my decision quickly. I liked to think of this move as being brilliant when I was younger, but now that I'm – to put it lightly – experienced in the quaint art of thievery, I guess it wasn't really all that creative at all when I think of some of the other undertakings we as a Guild have performed.

I learned Methredhel's home location and sleeping habits from a poor Waterfront resident who knew her well but didn't realize my intentions beneath my harmless-sounding questions. She slept during the day, so I'd have to be careful when I broke into her home. I got some sleep at a local inn, and then went back the next afternoon to the Waterfront district.

Although there were a significant number of people in the vicinity, I was able to get her home's door open easily. Its lock was much flimsier than Amantius Allectus', which I should have expected considering the living conditions, so I peeked in to make sure she was in bed, slipped into the room, shut the door behind me, and almost had a coronary. Methredhel was asleep, but her friend wasn't.

I hadn't even considered the possibility of someone else being in the room. Why was this person even in there? I had no clue and was dumbstruck at this revelation. It was an amateurish mistake that I'm not proud of, but I'd been out of things a long time, so I think I could have been given some room for at least _some _error. Every ounce of all that anxiety I'd felt the previous night flew right back into my veins when I saw that other person, and I was frozen where I stood. However, perhaps by the grace of the Nine, she was sitting in a chair, her back turned to the door, and she hadn't even heard me open the old thing. It was nothing short of a miracle.

The problem was that she was reading a book, and I wondered what I would do if that happened to be none other than Allectus' diary. I thought about running up and snatching it out of her hands, but decided first that I'd look around the room for my trophy. Thankfully, it didn't take a great deal of searching to locate what I sought. It was sitting on a desk out of her sight, right out in the open for the entire universe to gaze upon. I took it and got out of there.

Methredhel wasn't happy with the outcome of the mission. She was nothing short of incensed at what I had pulled. In my boorish state, I think I remember telling her to "cry more," or something when we all met up with Cristophe that night. I probably shouldn't have done that, but I was happy with what I'd accomplished. There also wasn't any problem with the result from Cristophe – neither Methredhel nor I had been members of the Guild at the time, so there would be no penalty inflicted upon me for stealing from a fellow member. He acknowledged my cunning, and after excusing Methredhel and the hapless Amusei, got down to business with me.

It was the beginnings of a wonderful – and profitable – relationship.

I wasn't able to do much in or for the Guild at that time, since I had slightly more pressing matters to attend to. I won't go into much detail about my journey to find Martin Septim, or what happened when I did find him, since that's irrelevant and it's obvious what happened anyway. I will only say this regarding that quest: Martin Septim meant more to Tamriel than I ever did. I am incapable of writing all the words he really deserves. I held him in the highest regard possible, because he treated me with a level of respect few ever have, and the absence of one of the few true friends I've made in my life pains me every day.

Eventually that journey came to an end, and I was heralded by those in power as Cyrodiil's champion, one of the most noble titles anyone has ever claimed. You might be thinking that I became a high-classed, high-society noble with money flowing out of my pockets as a result. Forget it. I didn't see so much as one Septim for all that work. Only thanks to my occasional robberies was I able to get whatever funds were necessary to finish that quest. The people of Tamriel think my services didn't come with a price. Guess again.

I was well-regarded by upper-class nobles for my accomplishments, however, and after some more work with the Guild, I'd made enough money to move into a home in Chorral – a beautiful place named Arborwatch. I liked Chorral and its people. I was quite popular with the Countess, Arianna Valga, who enjoyed my company as she didn't seem to have many people who truly respected her like I did, probably due to the untimely loss of her husband, the Count. I was also popular with an Argonian lass by the name of Dar-Ma, primarily because I'd had to run off one afternoon to go look for her when she went missing. I got her out of the little mess she was in, and we hit it off.

But the real reason I chose Chorral as my home was because it wasn't too far from Bruma, where my most appreciative fence was, it was close to the Imperial City, which is practically the Guild's nest, and it was small and friendly enough where few people suspected their neighbors of any crime. This was important for me, and would become even more important later when I became the Gray Fox. Although the town had a number of classy types with large homes, I never once stole anything there. If I wanted to add to the weight of my Septims, I'd leave town and go somewhere else to engage in my side business. Ripping someone off in your own backyard is no better than begging to get lynched.

Arborwatch proved to be an excellent base of operations. Since they'd eventually gotten into the Guild as well, I'd often have Amusei and Methredhel over for company, which made them less suspicious over time in the eyes of the town guard. That would also help me later on, since they would be the past Fox's messengers whenever he wanted me to run around doing "chores" for him. I'd go on to use them as my personal messengers as well once I took over the Guild's greatest role. It made things quite a bit easier.

The other Guild members seemed amused that the champion of Cyrodiil was actually one of their rising members. Sometimes, being the champion gives rich types a sense of comradery with me, and that fact could variate between being helpful or hurtful when I wanted to get into some noble's life while scouting him for a score. It doesn't happen very often, but when it does, it adds a curious, interesting aspect into my career.

But things rarely stay as peaceful as that, especially when you're thrust into one of the most dangerous positions your life will come across. I would discover this when Amusei paid me a visit late one night, and I felt my tongue move to the back of my throat when he told me the one and only Guild leader wished to see me in person for something.

I had a feeling things were about to change.


End file.
